


War: Tivea and The Moor

by FiredUpAuthor



Category: Original Work
Genre: Apathy, Dragons, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Royalty, Supernatural Elements, more tags will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-06-25 22:33:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19755100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiredUpAuthor/pseuds/FiredUpAuthor
Summary: Queen Nefertiti has done everything she can to bring her country: The Moor, back from ruin. When she came to power, The Moor was bankrupt, disease-ridden, and on the brink of starvation. Now The Moor is prosperous. But now, for unknown reasons someone wants her dead, on top of that, due to a tariff she enacted, the Tivean government is inciting war.At the end of her rope, the Queen enlists the help of the mercenary Kingdom of Osha, hoping they can help.Will try to update once a week if my schedule allows. Please leave a comment if you like it. All rude comments will be deleted.* Currently on hiatus until my work load lessen.





	1. Prologue

The fighting had started, this was the last thing Ichirou and Tara had wanted. Though parts of them knew it was inevitable, it still horrified them to stand out over the cliff and watch the fighting on the field below. Without a word, Ichirou climbed onto Tara back and within moments they were soaring through the air.

The near ear-splitting roar that came from Tara made all the fighting stop momentarily as everyone marveled up at the great black beast that flew overhead, briefly blocking out the sun, causing the field to be covered by shadow. Tara bellowed flames into the valley below, then quickly veered up, back into the clouds to avoid arrows being shot at her. The wind whistled in Ichirou’s ear as she sped upwards.

Once she had reached the cloud tops, Tara appeared to be scanning the battlefield, when something whizzed past her and Ichirou, who turned back around to see what it was. Before it disappeared behind the clouds, he caught sight of what appeared to be a giant crossbow bolt.

Tara suddenly fell into a dive, causing Ichirou to feel like he’d left his stomach in the clouds, and quickly fold onto her as they dived. The roar from the wind was deafening.

Then all that could be heard was the sharp cry of pain, then the sensation of falling. The wind whipped and roared all around Ichirou as he and Tara tumbled through the sky.

“ _Tara!”_ Ichirou screamed, but his voice was carried away by the roar of the wind.

Down, down, _down_ they fell, the wind continuing to whip and roar around them, the sound of the fighting on the ground growing louder.

Ichirou desperately tried reaching for Tara, but he was moving too far away. He could see the bolt buried deep in her right shoulder.

“ _Tara!”_ he screamed, but again, his voice was carried away by the roaring of the wind.

Tara tried to flap her wings to keep them from falling their deaths, but when she tried she gave another cry of agony.

Down, down they fell, the ground growing closer. Ichirou could almost make out individual features on the people below. As he and Tara tumbled through the sky, he could see his life flashing before his eyes. In the back of his mind, he wondered where and how everything ended to this, as he braced for impact.


	2. Part 1: the First Month Chapter 1: The New Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Ichirou gets a new contract and travels to The Moor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accents  
> Grizwuldian - British  
> Surnos - Spanish  
> The Moor - Irish  
> Tivean - Icelandic

(Six months earlier)

“Ichirou,” the King, his Father, addressed him in the throne room, “I have a new contract for you.”

Ichirou said nothing, just continued to stare blankly at his father with his blue eyes behind his sunglasses.

“The Queen of The Moor: Queen Nefertiti has requested our aid in uncovering a plot against her life.”

“I fight and win _wars,_ Father. I’m not a spy or a bodyguard,” he said flatly.

“I know, but whatever her reason, she requested aid from Osha and I am sending you to find out why. And she is paying a lot of money.”

Ichirou said nothing.

“They call her the Dragon Queen. I wonder why that is. And even though she’s been on the Moorish throne for only two years, she already had several assassination attempts, all failed. I want to know why that is. I want to know everything about this supposed plot against her. If whoever is wanting her dead offers a better price then she does then The Moor will be short one Queen. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good,” the King nodded. “Now go and gather what you need. You set sail immediately.”

Ichirou turned to leave until his father called him back.

“One more thing: I want to know everything that goes through that little bitch’s head. I don’t care how you do it. I don’t care if you have to sleep with her in order to learn what’s going on in that head of hers. Whatever you have to. Understand?”

Ichirou nodded.

“Now go.”

As Ichirou walked to his room, he was approached by his two younger brothers: Jirou and Shiro.

“So, what was that all about?” Shiro asked smirked and throwing his arm around his elder brother.

“New contact,” Ichirou said shortly, and throwing Shiro’s arm off him, continuing to walking.

“How many of us will be going?” Jirou asked.

“Just me.”

Jirou and Shiro stopped walking behind Ichirou, stunned.

“Just you?” they asked in unison.

Ichirou sighed, wondering why he was still participating in this useless conversation.

“Yes, just me,” he said turning around to face his brothers.

“Why?” Shiro questioned.

“Didn’t ask,” Ichirou said, and continued walking.

Shiro raced after him, while Jirou shrugged and walked off in the other direction.

“Why _only_ you, though? Did whoever only ask for you?”

“I don’t know and don’t care.”

“But…”

“Shiro,” a new female voice sounded behind them.

Shiro turned, and Ichirou looked over his shoulder. It was their older sister: Reiko.

“Shiro, leave Ichirou alone.”

Shiro huffed, shoved his hands into his pockets and sulked off, shoulders hunched.

Reiko and Ichirou watched him leave until he was out of sight when Reiko approached Ichirou and handed him something.

“Father told me to give you this,” Ichirou looked down at the object in his hand, about the size of his palm. It was a jade green medallion with a strange swirling symbol in the center. He turned it over and found a note attached to the medallion.

Opening the note, he found beautiful scrawling handwriting that he didn’t recognize.

_Use this to get past the Guardian._

_HI &RM Nefertiti_

Ichirou put the medallion and note in his pocket, turned and continued walking to his room without another word to his sister.

When he arrived at his room, the guards standing on either side of the doors pushed them open and shut them once Ichirou was inside.

Ichirou took off his sunglasses and rubbed at his eyes, before putting them back on.

He went around his room and began packing the things he’d need, not knowing how long he’d be in The Moor.

_It’ll take about five days to get to The Moor,_ he thought as he searched for his umbrella, The Moor being famous for how much it rained. He finally found it under his bed and threw it into his luggage.

It took him another thirty minutes to finish packing, finally sitting down at the old vanity that used to be his mother’s, knowing that he should be going down to the port, but not finding it in himself to care at the moment.

Ichirou sighed and leaned his head and stared at the vanity mirror.

His father’s words echoing in his head.

_“I don’t care if you have to sleep with her in order to learn what’s going on in that head of hers. Whatever you have to.”_

“Sleep with her, huh?” he murmured to himself.

That shouldn’t be too hard. For whatever reason women were always throwing themselves at him and his brothers (but mostly just him). Ichirou suspected it was because he was the heir to the Osha Kingdom.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his red hair, stood, grabbed his luggage, slinging it over his shoulder, and making his way down to the port, where the ship was waiting to take him to The Moor.

“Your Highness!” the ship’s captain saluted when Ichirou stepped on board.

Ichirou grunted in response.

“I’ll be in my cabin. I don’t wish to be disturbed.”

“Yes, sire. Of course.”

Ichirou left the captain babbling away as he walked down to his appointed cabin.

Once he shut the door to his cabin, he threw his stuff on the bed and sat down next to it. Sitting on the desk next to the bed was several files and a couple of books. He reached over and plucked the first file from the stack.

On the front, it read: Tara Nefertiti Shelby-Dormer, Queen of The Moor.

Opening the folder, Ichirou was greeted by the Queen’s Coronation photo, and he was struck by how beautiful she was. The Queen reclined regally on the chair she sat on, one hand resting on an open book on the side table next to her and the other resting on the arm of the chair. Draped around her was the red velvet and fur line coronation robe that pooled at her feet. She wore a pale yellow and orange beaded ball gown that sat off her shoulders. Atop her head rested the silver crown used to appoint a new Moorish sovereign. A large diamond and emerald necklace that rested on her lightly tan skinned. Her long dark brown hair fell about her shoulders in large loose ringlets, perfectly framing her round baby face. Her full lips were slightly parted, almost as if she were about to issue a command. But the most striking thing about the portrait was her eyes. Her brown eyes held an intensity to them, that they drew the viewer to them immediately.

Ichirou found himself staring at the portrait for several minutes, wanting to soak up the young Queen’s beauty. Eventually, he made himself put the portrait to the side, and look over the file.

He discovered that they were of an age, Ichirou being 21, and the Queen being 20.

She was born in The Moor, to the Third Prince Asher, brother to the Late Empress Marie, and his wife Ebonee. When she was made Queen, she had changed her name to Dormer, as Shelby was the name of the current ruling Empress (her cousin). Dormer was the name of the city that the Queen grew up in.

She had three siblings: an older half-brother: Amir Mohamed, a younger sister: Sloane, currently the heir presumptive until the Queen had children, and a younger brother: Fakhir, who was only seven.

In the two years since she’d been made The Moorish Queen, she had led her people from the brink of destruction and had repaired the damage Queen Cerise (her predecessor) had caused with the Imperial family.

Ichirou had to admit it was impressive of all that she had accomplished in such a short time. It was easy to see why The Moorish people took such pride in their young Queen.

It also turned out that she had been proposed to a total of seven times in the last two years, each one she rejected. She’d also had five assassination attempts in those two years as well. Again, they all failed.

Several things that did keep popping up in her file were: “Black Vein,” “Catalyst,” and “Dragon Queen,” Ichirou didn’t know what any of that meant, and found that he wanted to know. It had been a long time since Ichirou wanted to know anything.

He picked up the other file, it read: Princess Sloane Shelby-Dormer.

Ichirou opened it and found Sloane’s picture. She and the Queen couldn’t have looked more different if they tried.

Sloane had milk-white skin, a heart-shaped face, with high cheekbones, bright green eyes that held a glint of mischievousness in their depths, and straight blonde hair. The only way someone could tell she and the Queen were related was the shape of their eyes and nose. Other than that, the sisters looked nothing alike. Sloane was all smiles and mischief, where the Queen was all business and seriousness.

The information in Sloane’s file was mostly the same as the Queen’s, save her age: 17.

The next and last file he picked up read Amir Mohamed, Son of Lady Ebonee, half-brother of Queen Nefertiti, Commander of the Queen’s Guard.

Opening it, found Amir’s picture. It was strange that none of the siblings looked alike. Amir and the Queen did resemble each other somewhat. Where the Queen's hair was nearly black in color, Amir’s was a richer brown. They had the same brown eyes, and the same intense look in their eyes as well. Where the Queen had a round face, Amir had a long narrow face with high cheekbones, though not nearly as high as Sloane’s, and his skin was lightly tanned, though darker than the Queen’s. The three siblings couldn’t have looked more different if they tried. Amir was 26 years old.

It seemed obvious that the Queen trusted her siblings tremendously, as she made her brother the Commander of her Queen’s Guard, and her sister was one of her top advisors.

_Whatever you have to._ His father’s words echoed through his head again, as he stared at the Mohamed and Dormer siblings. The only one he didn’t have a picture of was seven-year-old Fakhir Shelby.

Ichirou was on the deck of the ship five days later, only a few hours from The Moorish capital of Kingsburgh when an ear-splitting roar sounded from behind them, getting closer. Everyone turned in the direction of the roaring.

A dragon, the size of a mountain was flying overhead, casting a shadow over the entire ship and landed in the ocean in front of the ship, making it rock side-to-side.

It roared, shaking the boat violently, then made a series of clicking noises.

“It’s a _Guardian!”_ someone screeched behind Ichirou.

_Guardian?_ Suddenly he remembered the medallion and the note in his pants pocket.

He quickly pulled it out of his pocket and held it out in front of him.

The dragon lowered its head, it easily twice the size of the ship, to peer at Ichirou, its pupil dilating to a mere pinprick, before raising its head and flying off again, rocking the boat violently.

“What was _that?_ And what just happened?” someone asked.

“That was one of the Guardians of the Empire. That one is Cre, Guardian of The Moor,” the captain replied. “They guard the borders of the Empire.”

“What if we hadn’t had that medallion?”

“We most likely would’ve been destroyed.”

“Oh.”

“We’ll arrive at Kingsburgh in about three hours,” the captain announced.

Ichirou walked back down to his cabin, with the crew members speaking excitedly (or terrified) about the dragon, for many of them, Ichirou included, it was the first time any had seen the legendary creature. The Empire seemed to be living up to the rumors that surrounded it.

The Empire was the strongest and longest lasting country in the world. It consisted of four large islands that made up the Empire.

Tivea, to the North, was ruled by the Triumvirate a group of “elected” leaders, when in fact the Tivean government was nothing more than a twisted and corrupt game of who-was-more-evil-and-richer. It was said that the Tivean people longed for the return of their long-extinct monarchy, but only a civil war would cause that.

To the South is Surnos, ruled by the Grand Duke Oswaldo, a man who made it perfectly clear he never had cared about ruling, preferring to spend his time in many of Surnos’s pleasure houses; and at 65 and no trueborn children, the Surnoian people were thinking about doing the same thing The Moor did, and appointing a member of the Imperial family as their next monarch.

To the East was The Moor, for nearly 43 years it was ruled by Queen Cerise, the Mad Queen, as most people called her, had left the country penniless, starving, near to civil war, and broken its ties with the Empire’s current Empress, by having cut the eye out of the Empress’s younger sister: the Third Princess Faith.

In the center was Grizwul, the largest of the four islands that was the home to the Empress Artemisia and her husband the Emperor Consort Lawrence. The Empress had been on the throne since she was thirteen when her mother and step-father, the Late Empress Marie and the Late Consort Shay, had been murdered in an attempt to keep the Late Empress from making a new ally of the plotters enemy, the Kingdom of Osha.

Ichirou couldn’t help but see the irony in his situation. Here he was, about to help the Late Empress’s niece, when his family is the reason she died.

He got to his cabin and to repack his stuff. Once he was done he looked over the files a few more times before putting them into his bag as well.

Slinging his bags over his shoulder and shoving his free hand in his pocket, he made his way back to the deck.

As Ichirou stepped off the boat he was greeted by three men, one of which he recognized immediately as Amr, the Queen’s brother, he didn’t recognize the other two. Amir was holding a spear in his hand as he stepped forward to greet Ichirou.

“Prince Ichirou Mamoru of the Osha Kingdom?”

Ichirou nodded.

Amir bowed. When he straightened up he said, “Welcome to The Moor, I am Amir Mohamed, brother to Queen Nefertiti and the Commander of her Queen’s Guard. Our Queen sends her sincere apologizes that she couldn’t come to welcome you personally as she is very busy and couldn’t make it.”

The entire time Amir spoke, he stared at Ichirou with that intense stare like he was looking into his, Ichirou’s, very soul and seeing what was there and judging whether or not to allow Ichirou near his sister.

Amir must have been satisfied with what he found because he turned on his heels and told Ichirou to follow him.

They arrived at a car, which Amir opened the trunk and took Ichirou’s bags and put them in the trunk, then one of the other guards opened the door for him and they were off the palace.

They arrived about 20 minutes later, and Ichirou was impressed by the palace. The Moor was the oldest of the four nations (Grizwul being the youngest, which was still ancient).

The unknown guards took Ichirou’s bags and went off in a random direction, Ichirou didn’t bother asking where they were going, figuring they were taking his stuff to his room.

“This way Your Highness, the Queen will want to speak with you.”

Again, Amir studied him with a piercing gaze, before leading him through the palace.

Amir led Ichirou through several winding hallways and corridors before stopping in front of a set of double doors with guards on either side.

“Is the Queen busy?” Amir asked one of the guards, who shook his head.

Amir nodded, pushed one of the doors open and beckoned for Ichirou to follow him.

“Your Majesty,” Amir announced, “I’ve brought the Osha Prince.”

The Queen stood hunched over a table, with her back to them.

When she heard Amir, she straightened and turned around; and Ichirou was struck by how her portrait didn’t do her justice, as she had an aura of calm and grace about her that somehow magnified her beauty.


	3. Chapter 2: The Queen of The Moor

The Queen clasped her hands together at her stomach and curtsied.

“I thank Your Highness for answering my plea,” she said softly, her voice soothing and calm. She didn’t have the same accent as her brother, hers being a mixture of Grizwuldian and Moorish. “Amir, would you please close the door?”

Amir nodded and shut the doors behind him.

“Please, sit,” the Queen said, motioning to the table in front of her.

She sat first, then Ichirou sat across from her, with Amir coming to stand beside her.

“Queen Nef----,” Ichirou began but was stopped by the Queen’s hand.

“Please, you don’t have to call me that when in private. Honestly, my real name will be just fine.”

Ichirou nodded.

“Very well, Tara.”

She smiled good-naturedly, giving a small giggle.

“It’s pronounced tar-a, not tear-a. It’s a common mistake.”

Ichirou nodded, the name being pronounced as tear-a in Osha.

“I realize you must be weary from your long journey, but this will only take a few minutes. Then I will, personally, show you to your rooms.”

Ichirou watched her silently through his sunglasses.

When she realized he wasn’t going to say anything, she continued, “Last month I placed a tariff on certain Tivean products, intending for them to boost my still shattered economy, (which it has). But the Tivean Triumvirate doesn’t seem to see it that way. Honestly, I don’t think they know _how_ tariffs work. Viscount Johann is calling for my head.”

“They’re fools if they think they can violate the Empire’s Peace Agreement,” Amir cut in angrily.

The Queen sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.

Ichirou noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

“The Viscount has made death threats and hinted at war. Sadly, the Empress can’t step in until something has _actually_ happened. Until then, I am on my own. Which why I have asked Osha for help. I can’t ask for any help from the Empire. The Empress was the one who suggested getting help from Osha. I don’t even feel like I can trust any of my advisors,” the Queen rubbed her forehead.

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like as if my advisors are conspiring against me,” she sighed frustratedly.

“What do you want me to do?” Ichirou asked.

The Queen raised her tired eyes to Ichirou.

“For now I need you by my side. My Guard has enough to do right now. I know,” she added quickly before Ichirou could argue, “that’s not what you are usually hired for, but I am desperate! I am at the end of my rope. I need help and protection. I don’t even feel safe in my own home anymore.”

She looked at him desperately.

“If you don’t wish to take the contract, then I understand.”

Briefly, his father’s words echoed through his head, and for whatever reason, he found he didn’t care what his father wanted for once in his life, as he gazed at the desperate look on the young Queen’s face.

“I will take the contract,” Ichirou said, while the Queen was still speaking.

“ _What?”_ the Queen stopped midsentence.

“I will take the contract,” Ichirou repeated.

The Queen’s eyes widened in surprise.

“ _What? Really?”_ she asked in disbelief.

Ichirou nodded.

The Queen sat back heavily in her chair, her shoulders slumping.

“Oh, thank you!” she cried out in relief, as tears began to run down her face.

Amir put a comforting hand on his sister’s shoulder.

After a few moments of her gentle sobbing, she finally was able to pull herself back together. Wiping her eyes, she took a deep breathe, before speaking again.

“Thank you, Your Highness. You have no idea how much that puts me at ease.”

The Queen slowly stood to her feet, Ichirou briefly catching sight of a black patch on her shoulder before she moved her hair to cover it.

“Please, you can follow me,” she said wiping her eyes again.

The Queen led Ichirou from the room and down several hallways.

“I trust the Guardian gave you no trouble?”

“No, but it frightened many of the crew members aboard the ship.”

The Queen chuckled as they turned a corner.

“Yes well, Cre is known to frighten any first-time visitors. I do hope he didn’t frighten _you_ too much,” the Queen said gazing up at Ichirou.

“Surprised, was all.”

The Queen chuckled good-naturedly at his reply.

“Many would-be Conquerors have cowered at the might of the Guardians. You must not feel fear then if only surprise is what you feel when faced with a Guardian.”

Ichirou’s step faltered for a spilt second before continuing on as if nothing happened. Neither the Queen nor Amir noticed.

As they walked through the halls anyone they came upon swiftly moved out of the way and wither bowed or curtsied before their Queen. Whispering about the Osha Prince after they had passed.

They arrived at a grand set of oak double doors when the Queen announced that they had arrived at his rooms.

Pushing open the doors, she allowed Ichirou to enter first, then following herself.

It was a grand room. With Surnos rugs, Grizwuldian furniture, rich Tivean silks and curtains, and a beautiful four-poster bed.

“I hope you don’t mind if I leave you for a bit?” the Queen asked.

“While I’d love to stay and speak with you more, I’m afraid my country cannot wait.”

Ichirou nodded, making the Queen smile, something deep within him briefly stirred at her smile; Ichirou didn’t know what it was.

“I shall send someone to get you when we have dinner. I hope you don’t mind my family joining us.”

Ichirou shook his head.

“Then until then, I’ll leave you to unpack and get situated.”

With that, the Queen curtsied and left the room with Amir trailing behind her.

Ichirou took his time unpacking his things and exploring his new apartments. He found a short hallway off to the side of his new bedroom leading to a small study, with red carpet and bookshelves lining three of the walls and a desk against the farthest wall and two couches in the middle of the room with a small table in between them.

Beyond the study was a large bathroom, with a large claw-foot tub resting against the back wall, the floor being tiled with black and white tiles, and a red curtain hanging close to the tub with a showerhead resting on a pole.

Making his way back to his bedroom, he took the medallion out of his pocket and put it on the desk, which was close to the door. Walking back to his near-empty bag, he fished out his Coms device and proceeded to call his father.

“Ichirou,” his father said by way of greeting.

“Hello, father,” Ichirou greeted.

“I take it that you just arrived in The Moor.”

“Yes, I’ve just gotten situated in my new rooms,” he informed.

His father hummed.

“Very good. What of the Queen?”

“Stressed. It appears as though she hasn’t been sleeping much, and the dress she was wearing was loose about her figure. I suspect she isn’t eating either. She told me she doesn’t trust any of her advisors anymore.”

His father laughed heartily at that.

“Excellent! Does she have any idea on _who_ it is that wants her dead?”

“If she does she hasn’t told me.”

The King hummed thoughtfully.

“Very well, anything else?”

“Just that she has invited me to dinner.”

“Good. I expect another update soon.”

“Yes, father.”

Then the King hung up.

Ichirou put his Coms down and gazed out his window into a courtyard below. He saw small children playing together on the grass.

Ichirou found himself wondering what they were playing. He and his brothers and sister had often wondered what other _normal_ children did.

Osha was a military Kingdom and as such, the Mamoru siblings had been trained in combat and warfare almost since they could walk and talk.

The training being so intense that it had caused the death of Ichirou’s second brother: Saburo.

The quadruplets had only been nine years old.

Ichirou often wondered what Saburo would have been like, had he lived. Not that their father had cared, he simply wrote Saburo off as weak and had continued on as if Saburo had never existed. Their father _abhorred_ weakness of any shape or form.

The siblings trained from the time they woke up in the morning to the time they went to bed at night, with very little breaks in between. Their training finally ending when the brothers turned 18.

Ichirou sighed deeply and turned away from the window, and flopped down on the bed face first, groaning into the covers as he did so. He took off his sunglasses and flopped his head back down on the bed.

Ichirou must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, there was a knock at his door, followed by a high girlish voice saying, “Your Highness? Her Majesty, the Queen sent me to get you for dinner!”

There was a pause followed by more knocking.

“Hello? Your Highness?”

He opened the door to find Princess Sloane, her fist raised, ready to knock again when he opened the door.

Her eyes widened in surprise when Ichirou swiftly opened the door, but her surprise was quickly replaced by a bright wide smile.

“Hello, Your Highness!” she said brightly, the Princess had a thick Moorish accent.

She curtsied, still all smiles.

“If Your Highness would please follow me, I’ll show you to the dining hall,” she said gesturing to her right.

Ichirou nodded and started following the Princess.

The Princess clasped her hands behind her back, lightly skipping as she walked.

The Princess couldn’t have been more different from the Queen if she tried. The Princess seemed to be all smiles, sunshine, and rainbows.

She hummed tunelessly as they walked.

She turned to face Ichirou, walking backward.

“The Queen is very pleased that you’ve agreed to help us,” she smiled happily.

Ichirou was almost _positive_ that there was rarely (if ever) a time when she _wasn’t_ smiling.

He wondered briefly what it was like growing up with her.

She continued to talk, mostly rambling on about how pleased and grateful her sister, the Queen, was with the help that Osha was providing by sending one of the legendary Osha Warrior Princes, (which was just a fancy way of calling them mercenaries.) On and on she talked, not even stopping to take a breath.

“Ah! Here we are!” she announced cheerfully as they reached what must have been the dining hall.

The dining hall was the size of a normal dining hall with high vaulted ceilings and wooden beams running along the ceiling, and a long table running almost the length of the room.

Already seated were Prince Asher and Lady Ebonee.

Seeing them, it was easy to see who their children took after.

Prince Asher had short-cropped blonde hair, a short neatly trimmed beard, the same milky-white skin, and green eyes as Princess Sloane. He had board shoulders and seemed to have a fair amount of muscles that could be seen under his shirt. On his left hand, he wore a gold wedding band.

Lady Ebonee was the near image of her daughter, the Queen. Her Grace was the picture of grace and beauty, with long way brown hair, that reached down to her mid-back, lightly tanned skin, kind brown eyes, perfectly arched eyebrows, a small nose, high cheekbones, and a thin mouth that somehow grew when she smiled.

“Mama, Papa, this is the Osha Prince Ichirou, who has agreed to help us.”

The Prince and Lady turned to gaze at Ichirou.

The Prince scrutinizing Ichirou with hard green eyes. Whereas Lady Ebonee studied him with the same intense look that both Amir and the Queen had.

After they were finished studying him, they both stood and smiled, though the smile didn’t reach their eyes.

“Hello, Your Highness,” Lady Ebonee greeted with a quick bow, her voice thick with an Emid accent.

“Welcome to The Moor, Prince Ichirou,” Prince Asher greeted with a bow of his head.

Ichirou bowed respectfully to the Prince and Lady Ebonee.

Lady Ebonee was about to say something when the doors to the dining hall burst open, causing everyone, minus Ichirou, to jump at the sudden loud noise.

Ichirou turned to see a small seven-year-old boy with brown hair, green eyes, pale skin, and freckles.

He ran eagerly over to his mother and father, completely ignoring Ichirou.

“Mama, Papa!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around his parent's waist.

This time, when they smiled it actually reached their eyes.

“Hello, Fakhir,” Lady Ebonee greeted running her fingers through her son’s hair.

“How was your day, today?” the Prince asked.

“It was great!”

“That’s wonderful!”

Fakhir turned and saw Ichirou for the first time.

“Who’re you?”

“I’m Ichirou Mamoru of the Osha Kingdom.”

Fakhir’s eyes widened in amazement.

“The Osha Kingdom?”

Ichirou nodded.

“That’s so cool!”

This was the normal reaction he got from young children, his father made he and his siblings out as heroes, when in reality they were nothing more than soldiers for hire, going to “help” whoever paid the most money.

Fakhir was about to say something else when the doors opened again.

It was the Queen, now dressed in a simple white T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

She was rubbing at her temples as she walked in.

The Queen looked exhausted. Even more so than this afternoon. The dark circles under her eyes had darkened considerably, and her shoulders were slumped. The Queen slowly raised her tired eyes to her family.

“Hello everyone. I see you’ve all met Prince Ichirou.”

Amir quietly closed the doors behind him. The Queen sounded as tired as she looked.

“Please, let’s eat.”

The Queen slumped down heavily in her chair and barely touched her food all throughout dinner.

When they’d all finished dinner, the Queen led Ichirou back to his rooms.

“In the morning I have a meeting with my council members and will need you to be there.”

Ichirou nodded and bid the Queen a good night.


	4. Chapter 3: The Council Meeting

Ichirou woke early the next morning.

Slowly he got up and started dressing. He pulled on a black long-sleeve button-down shirt, white khaki pants, black dress shoes, his sunglasses, and a one-shoulder red cape.

Just as he was finishing dressing there was a knock at his door. When he opened it, the Queen was waiting on the other side.

She looked beautiful in her cream and gold-colored dress. The dark circles were still under her eyes. She looked as if she hadn’t slept at all last night.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” she said groggily like she was ready to fall asleep at any moment.

Ichirou noticed how she was swaying slightly as she stood.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Ichirou greeted bowing respectfully before the Queen.

She blinked slowly, before gesturing for him to follow her.

“Come, the council doesn’t wait for anyone, even me.”

As Ichirou followed the Queen, he began to notice just how _truly_ exhausted she was. Her shoulders were slumped, and she was walking hunched over. The Queen could barely walk in a straight line, and on more than one occasion Ichirou had to catch her from falling. He found himself genuinely worried about her.

She looked like she was beyond exhausted and ready to keel over at any moment.

“Your Majesty, if I may, and with all due respect, are you sure you are in a fit state to be doing this?” he asked genuinely worried about the Queen’s health.

She gave him as what could only be described as a look of pure contempt.

“I’ll be fine, Your Highness,” she said wrenching her arm from his grasp. She kept walking, standing a little straighter.

They walked down a short flight of stairs that led to a large stone double doors. It took four guards, two on either side, to open the doors.

The room was made almost entirely of stone and marble. The landing they were standing on led to two flights of stairs, in between the stairs was a giant statue of a man with six arms.

Ichirou stopped to gaze at the statue.

“That’s the Malahari,” the Queen said.

“The what?” Ichirou asked confused.

“The Malahari. He is the Spirit of Creation and Magic. He created all things in this world and gave them life.”

Ichirou nodded. The Empire was the widest practitioners of worshipping Spirits and believing in the Spirit World.

“Come, it’s not much farther.”

They past the statue of the Malahari and at the end of a hallway came to another stone door, this one opening by itself.

The council room was sparsely furnished. With about fifteen chairs in a circle with a more ornate chair sitting at the tip of the circle.

The Councilors were all already there and stood when their Queen walked in. Then they stared inquisitively at Ichirou.

There was a chair beside the Queen’s throne that she motioned to Ichirou to sit at.

“Your Majesty,” they all said bowing before the Queen.

All the Councilors were old men, the youngest being in his mid-forties.

Once the Queen sat, so did the rest of the men in the council room.

“What is on the agenda for today-----.”

“Why is an Oshian doing here?” asked a councilor maliciously.

The Queen quickly whipped her head towards the offending councilor and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Lord Devon,” she said in a dangerously calm voice. “ _Do not_ interrupt me again! And this is _Prince_ Ichirou of the Osha Kingdom. He is my guest and thus should be treated as befalls his rank. You all shall treat him with the same respect as you do me.”

She turned back to face the rest of the councilors.

“As I was saying,” she shot the offending councilor a seething look, “what is on the agenda for today gentlemen?”

“The region of Darnley is…”

Ichirou only half-listened to what was being said, as he continuously scanned the crowd of councilors. He quickly decided that the ones that looked the most suspicious of his sudden appearance were innocent and the ones that looked innocent of his appearance were the ones to look out for.

The Queen either didn’t notice or pretended not to notice the stares Ichirou attracted.

“And I have some news on Lady Cerise, Your Majesty.”

That caught Ichirou’s attention and he started listening again.

“What of her?” the Queen asked.

“She’s been causing trouble again.”

“What has she been doing?”

“The usual ranting and raving, demanding everyone’s head, insisting that she’s still Queen,” said a counselor with an air of casual confidence, and was easily the youngest one there being around his mid-forties.

Ichirou was instantly suspicious. He didn’t care for the way he eyed the Queen.

“The old queen is crazy and senile.”

“Be that as it many, she was still your Queen for 43 years. While she deserves no respect,” Queen Nefertiti took a deep breathe, “She was still your Queen. What should,” she held up her hand to silence the cocky councilor, “be done about the Lady Cerise?”

“In my honest opinion, Your Majesty, I feel as though we should move her to a new, more secure facility.”

The Queen groaned and rubbed her temples.

“Then this’ll be the third time she’s been moved this year then.”

The Queen laced her fingers together and thought for a few moments.

“Keep the Lady Cerise there until the end of the month, and if by then, they still can’t keep her contained; we’ll move her again.”

All the councilors nodded in agreement.

The clock on the wall chimed twelve.

Once the clock finished chiming the Queen stood, causing everyone else to stand.

“Gentlemen, we shall reconvene in three hours’ time. Until then I bid you all a good day.”

She then motioned for Ichirou to follow her. He was two steps behind her when the cocky councilor from earlier sidled up next to the Queen. A little too close. Ichirou could see the Queen tensing as he began to unsubtly flirt with her.

“My Lord will have to excuse me, but I am very busy and therefore have very little time to spare.”

The Queen then quickly left the councilor there.

“Is he always like that?” Ichirou asked after a while.

The Queen glanced up at him before returning her gaze back to the hallway.

“Unfortunately. He’s one of my more… _insistent_ suitors.”

Ichirou wasn’t all that surprised to find out that she had suitors, he was surprised to find out that one of her suitors was a counselor.

“He’s persistent, I take it.”

“Persistent is one way of putting it.”

Then, suddenly the Queen grabbed her left forearm and doubled over in pain.

“Your Majesty?!” Ichirou exclaimed as she collapsed to her knees.

What was going on?! What just happened? She was fine a second ago! Was someone already trying to kill her?

“I-it’s _f-fine,”_ the Queen said through clenched teeth, “th-this happens all the time. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I-----,” the Queen again, doubled over in pain, breathing heavily through her teeth.

Somewhere behind him, someone gasped and the sound of something hitting the ground, followed by a shocked, “ _Your Majesty!”_

Ichirou turned and saw a serving girl standing there, her mouth and eyes wide with horror.

“Can you help me stand her up?”

It took her a moment to register what Ichirou had said, when it did, she slowly nodded and walked over to where her Queen knelt.

As gently as they could, Ichirou and the girl slowly helped the Queen to her feet. The Queen then took a few steps forward then was falling forward, her eyes rolled back into her head.


	5. Chapter 4: Black Vein

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Months  
> January - Month of the Rat  
> February - Month of the Ox  
> March - Month of the Rabbit  
> April - Month of the Horse  
> May - Month of the Goat  
> June - Month of the Tiger  
> July - Month of the Dragon  
> August - Month of the Rooster  
> September - Month of the Snake  
> October - Month of the Pig  
> November - Month of the Mouse  
> December - Month of the Dog

The Queen was unconscious for nearly two weeks, waking only long enough to drink a broth that had been laced with medication to help with the pain. Ichirou never once left her side.

The doctors would always give him very vague answers whenever he would ask what was wrong with the Queen. Or they would completely avoid his questions altogether.

It was only when the Queen finally opened her eyes and was completely conscious that he finally got some answers.

“Ichirou?” she asked her voice heavy with sleep.

“Hello, my Queen,” he smiled and brushed some of her hair out of her face.

She smiles sleepily up at him.

“What day is it?” she asked looking towards the window, like as if she could discern what day it was by looking at the sun.

“The Ninth of the month of the Rabbit.”

Slowly, she sat up in her bed.

“I see, so it’s been two weeks,” the Queen said vaguely, still looking out the window.

The sun streaming in through the windows, casting the room in a warm yellow glow. The light from the sun seemed to bounce off the Queen’s eyes making them sparkle.

“What happened, Your Majesty? No one would give me a straight answer.”

“No, I didn’t think they would,” she mumbled softly to herself before looking back at Ichirou. She sighed softly, running her fingers through her hair. “I’d hoped that I’d have a little more time before telling you. But alas it does not seem that the Spirits wish for that to happen.”

Now Ichirou was just confused. Why was the Queen suddenly talking in code?

“Ichirou, have you ever heard of someone becoming a host to a Spirit?”

Ichirou shook his head. In truth, he knew very little about the worship of Spirits.

“I haven’t. I don’t know much about the worship of Spirits.”

She nodded.

“Well, the gist of it is: that if someone is sick or dying and a Spirit sees that they still have much they can accomplish, they, the Spirits, can choose to occupy the person’s body and prolong their life.”

Ichirou nodded, thinking he understood.

“So the person becomes immortal, correct?”

The Queen chuckled.

“Hardly, it simply prolongs life until its natural conclusion.”

“It sounds almost like a blessing.”

“Almost. But a Blessing is different.”

“How so?”

“A Blessing is when you merely gain the _power_ of a Spirit, which is much more common than being a Host. No, being a Host means that you physically take the Spirits essence into your being, which is rare. You and the Spirit become one entity. Sometimes the Spirit will maintain some individuality. Sometimes it won’t.”

“So, you are a Host to a Spirit,” he said it more like a statement than a question.

The Queen nodded.

“I Host the Catalyst, Spirit of Destruction. He is the counterpart of the Malahari.”

“What happened to make you become a Host?”

She looked back out the window for what felt like ages before answering.

“Have you ever heard of the Black Vein?” she asked still looking out the window.

“No. What is it?”

“It’s a deadly disease. Do you not have it in Osha?”

Ichirou shook his head.

“Lucky. Well, I have the Black Vein.”

“Have? Not had?”

The Queen lifted her shirt to reveal her mid-section. On the right side of her stomach was indeed covered in black veins.

Ichirou stared at it in astonishment.

“What is it?” he asked unable to tear his eyes away.

“No one really knows. Some say it’s a curse brought about by the elves of old. Others say that it’s caused by a gene passed down through the generations.”

“There’s no cure.”

“No. A person usually dies within a week.”

“How…?”

“I don’t know. No one knows how you contract the Black Vein.”

“But if you Host a Spirit shouldn’t…”

“… Shouldn’t I have been cured of the Black Vein?” she finished for him with a sly smile.

Ichirou nodded.

“You’d think so. But, no. It’s more like my body is healing faster than the Black Vein can kill me.”

“How old were you when you got the Black Vein?”

“I was two years old.”

Ichirou was stunned by all this information. To know and have to constantly live with knowing that your body is trying to kill you.

Ichirou opened his mouth to ask more questions, but the Queen held up her hand to have him hold his questions.

“I know you have many more questions, but I must ask you to hold onto them. This, I’m afraid is all that I feel comfortable with telling you as of this moment.”

Ichirou nodded, wanting to respect the Queen’s wishes, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Can I ask one more question?”

She looked at him a little skeptically.

“Depends on the question.”

“Are you in pain?”

The Queen looked surprised for a moment before her expression softened to something Ichirou couldn't place… appreciation?

“It does sometimes. But most of the time I can handle it. Have you been here the entire time I’ve been asleep?”

Ichirou nodded.

Again, the Queen looked surprised.

“Why?”

“To make sure you stayed safe while you were sick.”

Ichirou thought it would be obvious why he stayed.

The Queen sighed, rubbed her eyes, and stretched, she groaned in satisfaction as several of her muscles popped.

“I’m quite hungry. Do you mind joining me in the kitchens?” the Queen asked, yawning after she finished speaking.

“Are you sure you don’t need to rest some more, to regain more of your strength?”

She waved the question away.

“I’ll rest after I eat. I know what the doctors give me when I get like this. Which means I haven’t had a proper meal in almost two weeks. So I really need to eat something that _isn’t_ laced with sedatives.”

Ichirou nodded. Her logic seemed sound enough. He stood and moved his chair back to the desk where it had been originally.

When Ichirou turned back around, he found the Queen pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants.

When her brown eyes reached Ichirou’s blue, he suddenly realized how fierce her fire was when she was fully rested. He was starting to see why the Catalyst chose her.

“Come, I don’t know if you know your way around the palace yet.”

“I don’t, not yet.”

The Queen chuckled.

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn your way around here soon enough.”

“I believe that. Is there anywhere I can’t go?”

The Queen thought for a moment.

“No. But possibly only my office and council room when in use.”

“Which is your office?”

“The room that you and I met.”

Ichirou nodded.

“Can I ask you something?” Ichirou asked after a while of them walking in silence.

“Of course.”

“What can you tell me about the Late Empress Marie and her husbands?”

The second he mentioned Empress Marie, the Queen stopped dead in her tracts.

“What about her?” the Queen asked suspicion in her voice, her back turned to him.

“I’m curious about who they are… or _were._ I don’t really know much about them.”

The Queen visibly relaxed at his words. She turned to look at him from over her shoulder.

“Are you asking me if I knew them?”

Ichirou nodded.

The Queen turned her head back around and continued walking.

“No, I didn’t. Emperor Consort Mordred died before I was born, Black Vein took him. And Aunt Marie and Shay both were killed before I was born as well. So no, I didn’t know them. Their deaths marked the end of the Ninth Age, the longest in living memory. Why do you want to know all of a sudden?”

“I was reading about them while you were asleep. Why were they killed?”

“Ah! The million-dollar question: _why?_ No one is really sure _why._ Some believe it was because they were trying to form an alliance with your country. Some think it was because they were advocating for the rights of those born with powers and the return of the elves. Others believe that the assassins were simply crazy. Or a combination of one or more of the causes. The only ones who _truly_ know are my cousins, and none of them are ever likely to tell, due to the trauma it caused. Not that anyone would ever ask them.”

Ichirou hummed.

“From what I’ve gathered, in the months after the assassination were some of the darkest in living memory,” the Queen continued. “The entire Empire was thrown in anarchy. No one was safe. Then the assassins started spouting their lies, so no one knew what to believe. And with the Princesses disappearing almost immediately after the Empress and Shay’s death, well it was starting to seem like the assassins were telling the truth.

“It wasn’t until Artie and her sisters reappeared several months later that most of the truth surrounding Aunt Marie and Shay’s death came to light. Except for _why._ The Big Three have said that they plan on taking the _why_ with them to their graves.”

“The Big Three?”

“That’s what most people call Artie, Severine, and Faith; as they were the children of Aunt Marie’s first husband: Mordred. The Lower Four are Amethyst, Cassandra, Ada, and Eleanor; they were the children of Aunt Marie’s second husband: Shay.”

“I see. How do you know so much about the Event? Are you close with your cousins?”

“I’m fairly close to Ada and Eleanor. But both of them have no memories of their parents. Eleanor was only a year old when they died. The twins, Emmy and Cass, only have snapshot memories of their parents. Only the Big Three truly know what happened.”

“Why is that?”

“They were the only witnesses. To have gone through all that at such a young age, I can’t even imagine. They’d already lost their father to the Black Vein years earlier, then to witness the murder of their mother and step-father.”

“The Empire wasn’t the only place thrown into chaos by the death of the Empress,” Ichirou said as they descended some stairs, “according to my sister, most of the world was in chaos following her death. The Empire is the strongest country in the world, one that many weaker countries rely heavily on. And without that protection, many places fell to war and were lost.”

The Queen stopped and turned back to him, her eyes wide like saucers.

“I knew that many countries relied on us… but, I had no idea that some places relied on us _that much!”_

Ichirou nodded.

“Why do you think people call the Empire the center of the world?”

The Queen looked away, then continued heading to the kitchens.

“I guess I never really thought about it.”


	6. Part 2: Second Month Chapter 5: Conversing in the Library

Ichirou had now been in The Moor for a month, so far no one had tried making an attempt on the Queen’s life. Since the Queen had passed out she had taken to eating and sleeping regularly. The Queen was still incredibly busy, even more so with the Festival of Music coming up in a few weeks’ time.

The Festival of Music was one of the four great Festivals of the Empire. The Festival of Music originated in The Moor making it one of the biggest celebrations of the year. The other festivals were: Tivea’s Festival of Lights that was held to honor the ancestors by lighting candles in the windows of your home, floating candles on water, and having them fly up in the air.

There was Grizwul’s Festival of Life that celebrated both the living and the dead. In more recent years it had become more of a time to honor and remember the Late Empress Marie and her husbands.

The last of the great festivals was Surnos’s Festival of Colors, unquestionably the largest and greatest of the festivals. The entire festival lasts about a week and usually took a year to plan. The Festival of Colors celebrated the diversity amongst the people of the Empire and was always hosted by a member of the imperial family. The Festival of Colors was so legendary that many places around the world celebrated it as well.

Ichirou was walking down the halls of the palace when he ran into Lord Robert of Bothwell, the Queen’s unwanted councilor and suitor.

Bothwell was always trying to intimidate Ichirou, which never worked as Ichirou stood a foot taller than Bothwell.

Bothwell had somehow gotten it in his head that Ichirou was a new suitor to the Queen, even though they’d both adamantly denied it.

The man was delusional.

“Oh! Hello, Your Highness, I didn’t see you there,” Bothwell said condescendingly. He had _clearly_ seen Ichirou.

Ichirou said nothing, just stared down at Bothwell with his cold and unforgiving blue eyes.

Bothwell tried to act brave, especially around Ichirou and the Queen, but in reality, he was nothing more than a coward. Whenever another council member would argue with him over an issue he would fight back weakly, unless he had the Queen’s backing. But that would rarely happen. How he got elected, Ichirou would never know.

“Hello?” Bothwell drew out the word while snapping his fingers in front of Ichirou face.

Ichirou had to bite down on his tongue to keep from snapping the man’s fingers. Instead, he shouldered past Bothwell without saying a word to him.

As he was turning a corner he heard some call out to him. Turning, he thanked the Spirits that it wasn’t Bothwell, but instead it was Orna, one of the Queen’s chief ladies-in-waiting, directly behind Princess Sloane.

Actually, Orna and Princess Sloane looked more like sisters than the Queen and Princess did. Many people actually confuse Orna and the Princess with each other. But after a while, it was easy to tell the difference between the two, even at a glance.

Their eye color was the biggest physical difference. Orna had brown eyes, not green. The way they held themselves was another difference. Orna was more serious, like the Queen, which was probably how she had quickly gained the Queen’s confidence; also being from an old Moorish family helped too.

“Your Highness,” Orna called.

Ichirou hummed in response.

“Bothwell didn’t insult you too much I hope.”

“No, but if he ever snaps at me again, he’ll be short two fingers.”

Orna tried and failed, to stifle her laughter.

“May I walk with you to wherever you are going?” she asked.

Ichirou nodded.

He didn’t really have any destination in mind, just wandering around trying to learn more the palace’s layout.

The Queen had told him that he could have the day to himself, as she would be in meetings all day for the upcoming Festival and most of her Guard would be back, so he’d taken to simply wandering around.

“I don’t really have a place in mind. I’m just walking around.”

Orna smiled.

“That’s fine. Queen Nefertiti had given us ladies the day off, and since I’ve already finished up all my duties for the day I’ve nothing else to do.”

Ichirou nodded and gestured for her to follow him.

“Have you heard what’s happening on Norvos?” Orna asked after a few minutes of silence.

“No, what?”

Norvos was the continent to the west of the Empire, also where Ichirou was from.

“Apparently Araq is threating war with Val Daeux, again.”

“That’s nothing new. Those two countries have been at each other’s throats for the past three Ages.”

Orna chuckled.

“That is true. But I thought you’d want to know, seeing as how Osha borders Araq.”

“Thank you for informing me.”

“Do you think they’ll really declare war on each other?”

“Most likely, they have many times before.”

“And… what about here?”

Ichirou thought long and hard about that. He realized that he truly didn’t know. If it were anywhere else he’d have said yes immediately. But with the Empire it was different. None of the four countries had declared war on each other since the birth of the Empire, back at the end of the First Age.

If the Tivean Triumvirate truly were that _stupid_ to think that they could get away with declaring war on another country within the Empire then… Tivea was truly lost.

“I… truly do not know. If it were somewhere else the answer would be a simple one. But none of the countries in the Empire have declared war on each other these past Ten Ages. No one’s ever been dumb enough to try. I know that in the past rulers have threatened war, like now, but with just one word from the Empress or Emperor would be enough to quail any thoughts of war. The current Triumvirate seems to think themselves above the rule of Empress Artemisia and Emperor Consort Lawrence.”

Orna made a thoughtful noise before replying, “I see.”

“Orna!” someone called, waving her over to them.

“I think this is where I leave you, Your Highness. Thank you for letting me follow you and the conversation.”

Ichirou nodded.

“Likewise, my lady.”

Orna left to join the person waving to her.

Ichirou continued on his journey of exploring the palace.

In his month of living in The Moor, he was finding that he was growing to truly enjoy his time in The Moor. More so than any of the other places he’s ever been. Osha especially. The Moor was so much more relaxed in terms of protocols and etiquette. They still had to call everyone by their proper titles, but it was almost completely from Osha.

In Osha, no one, high or low born, would have ever thought to walk up to Ichirou or his siblings and ask to walk and talk with them.

The Queen, herself turned out to be quiet the surprise. Ichirou had come to learn the difference between the Queen and Tara. While both were very serious and introverted in nature, Tara was more warm, gentle and kind. The Queen was more aloof, decisive, and stubborn.

He’d also learned much about her family: especially her cousin Empress Artemisia, whom she relied heavily on for advice. The two of them were in constant contact with each other. Even more so with the possibility of war looming over everyone’s head.

Ichirou found himself in the library, one of the largest rooms in the palace, also one of the Queen’s favorite places. As he walked through the vast aisles of shelves he suddenly overheard a conversation between the Queen and Sloane.

“… like nothing we think of could possibly placate them!” the Queen was saying.

“Surely there must be _something?”_

The Queen was silent for a few moments.

“I’m honestly not sure. Artie has Emmy and that Sabo guy looking into it.”

“Sabo? Who is that?”

“A Keeper from the Viper branch.”

Ichirou didn’t hear anything in reply.

“The Tivean people trust Emmy. They know she only has their best interests at heart. But the Triumvirate hates her.”

“The Triumvirate hates anyone who isn’t themselves,” Sloane said sarcastically.

The Queen chuckled humorlessly, then she huffed a sigh of frustration.

“What makes it worse, Cassandra’s husband just died. Throwing the entire imperial family into mourning.”

That explains why most people started wearing black in the past few days.

“I can’t be the only one to see the similarities between now and years ago?” Sloane contemplated.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean like with Aunt Marie and her first husband Mordred. Think about it! They both lost their first husbands and had children by them.”

“I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself. But I do agree, there are some eerie similarities.”

“Those poor children,” Sloane said mostly to herself.

“Artie still hasn’t heard from her?”

“Do you blame Cass for going into seclusion? She and Ace were rarely seen without each other.”

“I guess not,” Sloane said sadly. “What about the Prince?”

“What of him?”

“Why is he here? Why is he _really_ here?” Sloane added quickly.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there must be more than just needing more protection for wanting him here. I mean, he _is_ an Oshan warrior; and why just him? Why not all four of them?”

The Queen sighed frustratedly. 

“I have no ulterior motive in wanting him here. My Queen’s Guard is already stretched thin enough as it is. And with the raising between us and Tivea,” she paused, letting her words sink in, “well… even though it’s just one more person, I feel much safer and more at ease.”

Sloane didn’t speak for a moment before saying, “Do you have any idea who wants you dead?”

Ichirou listened closely to this.

The Queen hummed thoughtfully at the question.

“Well, my first thought of who it would be is the Viscount. But the more I think about it the more I feel like it’s too obvious to be the Viscount. Now, don’t get me wrong! I haven’t ruled out the Viscount, I just don’t feel like it’s him. The Viscount is usually all bark and no bite. I think the only reason why he’s still so adamant about going to war,” she said ‘war’ like it left a bitter taste in her mouth, “is because he has the Lord Dagur and Baron Magnus whispering in his ear,” the Queen sighed before continuing, “I pray to all the Spirits that Emmy and Sabo may find something, _anything_ that could help us.”

“May the Spirits guide and protect them during these dark times,” Sloane said solemnly.

“May the Spirits guide and protect us _all_ during these dark and trying times,” the Queen repeated.


	7. Chapter 6: A Ruined Outing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to my new editor KayanLucius from Deviantart

It had been two days since Ichirou had overheard the conversation between the queen and princess in the library. In that time Ichirou had deliberated over whether or not he should tell his father this new information. In the end, he did so and hated himself for it afterward. His father promised he would not do anything with the information yet, but Ichirou did not believe him. He knew his father too well as a liar.

Ichirou truly wanted to abandon Osha, but he knew he couldn’t. Osha, for all its many faults, was still his home. It was where his siblings were. It was where his mother and brother were buried. He could not leave them, even if he wanted too.

And yet, he found himself slowly falling-in-love with The Moor. Its people, culture, art, and history. The Moorish people were very proud and noble people, and most loved their “fierce young Dragon Queen.”

He found The Moor much more suitable than Osha had ever been. Here, Ichirou could freely express himself, though he had a hard time doing so, and did not have to worry about being punished for it as his father valued strength and nothing else.

Ichirou was pulled from his thoughts by a knock at his door. He quickly hid his sketching supplies and went over to answer it.

It was the queen. The sight of her took his breath away. She looked beautiful, but then again, when did she not? She wore a floor-length pale green dress, with a see-through floral overlay, and a silver bracelet with the Tree of Life on her wrist, her personal sigil.

She smiled pleasantly up at Ichirou.

“May I help you, my queen?” Ichirou asked, silently berating himself at the fumble, by calling her my queen, instead of Your Majesty. He wondered if he had been here too long.

The queen did not notice the mistake in address.

“I’m going into Kingsbrugh today, with Amir and Sloane, and I was wondering if you’d care to join us?”

Briefly, Ichirou wondered if this was a truly a request, or her subtle way of telling him to come with them.

“I would be honored to join you, Your Majesty. I would have to change into something more appropriate, though.”

The queen nodded.

“Then we will await you in the courtyard.”

Ichirou shut the door, hearing the queen’s retreating footfalls as he did.

As quickly as he could, Ichirou dressed in a dark shirt, dress pants and shoes, and his sunglasses.

He walked by his mirror and stopped, doing a double-take. Moving some of his hair to the side, he found that some of his natural blond was starting to show. Ichirou sighed and tried to cover up his hair as best he could. He did not hate his blond hair, it was just that when he did have it, people would tell him how much he looked like his father. He hated being compared to his vicious father, and would much rather be compared to his mother, who had been nothing but kind, caring and compassionate in her life.

Ichirou joined the siblings out in the courtyard roughly ten minutes later.

“We are so glad that you could join us, Your Highness,” the queen said in a cheerful tone as he joined them by the gates.

Ichirou wanted to point out how Amir did not look pleased to see him. He suspected that Amir took offense to his presences, thinking that he himself should be enough to protect his sister and queen. But Ichirou knew that Amir would never express his grievances out loud.

“ _Wait!”_ came a loud call from the entrance of the palace.

The four of them turned and saw little Fakhir running towards them. Fakhir stopped in front of his older siblings, panting heavily.

“C-can I… can I come too?” he asked.

The queen chewed on her lip thoughtfully.

“Come now, Sister; what’s the harm in letting him come with us?” Sloane asked.

“I suppose there isn’t any harm in letting him come along,” the queen slowly consented after a moment’s hesitation.

When his sister agreed, Fakhir broke out into a wide grin, his entire face lighting up.

“ _Really?”_ he asked.

“Well, I don’t really see why not… so yes, Fakhir you can come with us.”

Fakhir started jumping around and cheering.

The three older siblings chuckled at their younger brother’s antics.

“Come on, goofball,” the queen chuckled, ruffling Fakhir’s hair as he beamed up at her.

“Hooray!” Fakhir cheered.

The siblings chuckled again, shaking their heads and smiling.

Amir ruffled his little brother’s hair as well before wrapping an arm around Fakhir’s shoulder as the boy wrapped an arm around Amir’s waist.

“Open the gates, Captain,” the queen called.

Someone shouted something Ichirou could not hear and the gates started to rise.

“Now, Fakhir while we are out in the city, I want you to stay by one of our sides at all times am I clear? That means _no_ wandering off?”

“Yes, Sister,” Fakhir said, sounding dejected.

“Don’t sound so sad, Fakhir! Today is supposed to be a fun day!” Sloane said, trying to cheer her brother up.

“Where are we going?” asked Fakhir.

There was a loud _thunk_ and chains groaned as the gates opened fully.

“Fen’Fer’ale Park,” said the queen.

Fen’Fer’ale Park was named after The Moor’s first king, who helped untie the old warring clans and defend the Moorish people back in the First Age, against Eleanor the Conqueror, the first empress of the Empire. Fen’Fer’ale was still to this day highly respected and revered, though no one knew what he truly looked like. Most frescos, paintings, and statues were destroyed in the intervening ages. The only reason people today knew of his existence was through artifacts, and the written record. The few things that every source seemed to agree on was that: King Fen’Fer’ale was an elf, he never married or produced an heir, and that he disappeared completely from all records only ten years after he was made king. No one knows what happened to him.

It was a pleasant walk to Fen’Fer’ale Park, with the sun shining warmly on Ichirou’s face as they walked down the scenic roads of Kingsburgh.

“Can I go play when we get to Fen’Fer’ale Park?” Fakhir asked as he cheerfully skipped backward, beaming at the queen.

The queen chuckled and smiled at him.

“So long as you stay within our sight, yes.”

“ _Awesome!”_ he exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air and spinning around.

The older four of the group chuckled at the younger’s antics.

“What’s with you today?” Sloane asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“I dunno, Mother said I needed to come with you because I was being a…” he said something in Moorish that made Sloane and Amir roar with laughter and the queen desperately try to contain her own laughter.

Ichirou had started to pick up on some Moorish, but he had no idea what Fakhir had just said.

They arrived at Fen’Fer’ale Park a few minutes later, with Fakhir running off happily towards the playground.

“I remember coming here as a child,” the queen said.

“Did you ever do something like this when you were a child?” Sloane asked.

It was a few moments before Ichirou realized that she was speaking to him.

“Do what when I was a kid?” he asked, confused.

“Likely family outings and things like that.”

“No. We never did things like this.”

Ichirou could see the three of them exchange looks.

They spent several hours wandering around Fen’Fer’ale Park, talking and exploring with Fakhir running around and laughing. It was not until the sun started to dip down in the sky that they all decided it was best to head back to the palace.

As they were about halfway back, there was a sudden commotion across the street, like a group of people arguing. The five of them all turned in the direction of the noise.

What happened next seemed to take place in slow motion.

As they turned, a young man with blonde curly hair emerged from the arguing group, and slowly started to raise a gun. As the gun was being raised, the man began to walk towards them, a look of absolute fury on his face.

Without thinking Ichirou grabbed the queen, pulling her towards him and turning around to use himself as a shield. As he was turning, the man began to shout something in a language that Ichirou did not recognize. Then the man began firing as he continued to shout.

_BANG!_ The first shot whizzed past Ichirou’s ear, and he vaguely heard someone scream, but could not tell who or where it was coming from.

_BANG!_ The second shot thudded into the ground next to his foot, the shouting getting louder and angrier. Ichirou tightened his grip on the queen.

_BANG!_ The third shot grazed Ichirou’s side. It was painful but bearable. Ichirou closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, to try and help deal with the pain.

_BANG!!_ The fourth and final shot landed in Ichirou’s right shoulder, knocking him and the queen to the ground. Pain erupted where the bullet struck him.

Then there was more angry shouting, making Ichirou’s heart sink, but then he realized that this time the shouters had Moorish accents.

Ichirou turned his head to find the would-be assassin being wrestled to the ground by a crowd of angry Moorish citizens. The gun was knocked to the ground and kicked away.

“Your Majesty, are you hurt?” Ichirou asked turning back to the queen.

Her eyes were wide with fright, but she shook her head nonetheless.

“I’m fine, Ichirou, but you… you were shot _twice!”_

“I’m fine, Your Majesty. I’ve been hurt worse.”

The police and other first responders began to arrive.

As they started to sit up, Ichirou noticed blood on her shoulder.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, trying to reach for her arm, but found that when he did, pain radiated from his shoulder, and he couldn’t move his arm.

“Ichirou, it’s not my blood.”

She shifted and reached out to cup his face.

When she did, he felt his own hot, sticky, blood on the side of his face. When Ichirou looked down, he realized nearly his entire side was covered in crimson.

“ _Medic!”_ the queen cried. “We need help over here! This man has been shot!”

The sound of hurried footsteps met Ichirou’s slowly numbing ears. The steps faltered when they got closer.

“Y-Your Majesty,” said a breathless voice.

“ _There’s no time for that!”_ the queen screamed. “Help this man!” she jabbed her finger at Ichirou, “He saved my life, and _you’re_ going to save _his!”_

The medics quickly set about to tending to Ichirou’s injuries, while the queen hovered a polite – if worried – distance away, biting her finger.

“Your Majesty,” one of the medics said after a while.

“Yes?”

“This man needs to go to the hospital. The bullet is lodged in his shoulder, and we don’t have all the necessary equipment to remove it here.”

The Queen nodded before walking over to Ichirou, who was barely conscious.

“I shall come as soon as I can, but I need to get Fakhir home and safe.”

Ichirou nodded.

“You’re not allowed to die, understood?”

Ichirou nodded again.

Then she kissed his cheek and whispered, “ _Thank you.”_ Ichirou watched as Tara walked away.


	8. Chapter 7: the Chess Game

It had been two weeks since the attempted assassination of the queen. Due to the amount of damage the bullets Ichirou took in his shoulder and side did, he was forced to wear a sling to help him heal properly, which meant he could not use his dominant arm. It was obvious this made him feel quite useless as he struggled to simply button his pants. The queen had requested his presence in her study in a few minutes and he had struggled to get dressed most of the morning. Just getting his shirt on had been its own nightmare.

He sighed in relief when, at long last, he conquered the great task of fastening his pants, flopping back on his bed and closing his eyes to savor his small victory as he tried not to think about how he had another four weeks with this stupid sling.

Sighing again, Ichirou looked over at the picture frame that sat on his nightstand. He reached over and plucked it from its resting place. It was a picture of himself, his siblings and his mother from when they were children – from happier times. It was one of the few pictures he still had of Saburo and their mother he had left. It was the death of Saburo that brought about the deep-seated hatred the Mamoru siblings had for their father. Ichirou replaced the photo and checked the time, figuring it was close enough to when the queen had asked him to join her.

He walked past his now ruined sunglasses that were now cracked and covered in his dried blood. The queen had offered to get him new ones, but his mother had given him these glasses, and he could not simply throw them away.

It took him only a few minutes to reach the queen’s study, having been at the palace long enough to know his way around. Ichirou knocked twice and waited patiently for the queen to tell him to come in.

“I’ve told you, you don’t have to wait for me to summon you to enter a room,” she stated as he entered the room.

“Force of habit, Your Majesty,” he replied, closing the door.

“ _And_ I’ve told you, you don’t have to call me ‘Your Majesty.’ Not after saving my life.”

“Right.”

Her eyes scanned him from head to toe.

“You’re looking better. How’s your arm? Please, sit,” she asked as she gestured to the seat across from her.

Tara had forsaken all her fancy clothing today in favor of a baggy white T-shirt and a pair of light gray sweatpants, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“I’ve felt worse,” he said as he sat down.

“You nearly died, Ichi. I don’t like how you keep downplaying that.”

Ichirou appreciated her concern, Reiko was the only other person who showed the same amount of worry for him.

“Do you play?” Tara asked, gesturing to the chessboard that sat on the small table between them.

“I do, but I haven’t in a while.”

“My father taught me.”

“My brother Jirou taught us,” Ichirou stated as Tara made her first move.

“What about your father? Didn’t he ever spend time with you? You mentioned before how you never had family outings.”

Ichirou hesitated before he continued his move.

“Osha is different. It’s not like The Moor. It would have been considered improper to be seen in public like that.”

“I see.”

“Osha is a military society. Everyone is required to perform five years of military service once they turn seventeen. Myself included.”

“ _Five years?”_

Ichirou nodded.

“What was it like growing up for you?” Ichirou asked, turning the subject back on the queen.

“I always liked to think I had a fairly normal childhood. My family and I were so far down the line of succession that it didn’t even matter. It wasn’t until I was nine that I started to matter for the first time.”

“Why when you were nine?”

“That was when Lady Cerise was removed from the throne.”

“I’m afraid I still don’t follow.”

“So,” Tara shifted, uncrossing her legs, and tucking one under her, “in the Empire, the current reigning empress or emperor can remove one of the reigning sovereigns of the other three countries if they find them unfit to rule.”

Ichirou nodded.

“When I was nine Lady Cerise had completely gone off the deep end.” They both laughed at these words. “And after she had committed one of the highest acts of treasons…” Tara trailed off.

“Which was?” Ichirou inquired.

“She had cut out my cousin Faith’s eye because she thought she had some kind of spying device in it.”

Ichirou made a face.

“My thought exactly! Anyway, after that, Artie stepped in and had her forcibly removed from power.”

“And she had you named as Lady Cerise’s successor?” he guessed.

“Spirits, no!” Tara laughed. “A council was set up to run the country until one could be named,” Ichirou noticed how when Tara was not in “Queen Mode” she talked with her hands. “It’s like the council I have now. Usually, when something like that happens, a new monarch is voted in. I was one of four candidates. The people are the ones who decide on who will be the next king or queen. And,” she shrugged, “they chose me. Amir thinks it’s because I was born here and that I’m a part of the imperial family, but there’s no way I inherited _that_ crown. I pray I’ve been doing a good job. I wasn’t born a ruler, neither was my father. That’s why I rely so much on Artie. She’s been empress since she was thirteen.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. Look at all that you’ve accomplished in these last two years. You’ve helped bring The Moor back from the brink of destruction. Not many can say that.”

Tara smiled, showing off her dimples.

“Thank you, Ichi. I take that as high praise.”

“It was meant as such, Your – Tara.”

“You don’t speak often or fondly of Osha; do you not have any fond memories from when you were a child?”

He shook his head. “No, not really.”

Tara cocked her head to the side, reminding Ichirou of a confused puppy.

“You’re saying that you honestly have no fond memories from your childhood?” she asked looking saddened by this thought.

“I have a few,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Can I ask you what some of them are?”

“Most of them are of my mother and Saburo.”

“Saburo?” she asked, her eyebrows creasing in confusion.

“He is… or _was_ my little brother.”

“What happened to him?” Tara asked though she sounded like she already had an idea of what the answer to that was.

“He… he died. When we were nine,” Ichirou said quietly, looking down at the now-forgotten chess game.

“H-how?” Tara’s voice shook with empathy.

Ichirou took a deep, shaky breath. Even after all these years, it was still hard to talk about that day.

“I’d much rather not talk about it.”

The queen of The Moor nodded in understanding.

“What about one of your other _good_ memories?”

The prince of Osha thought for a moment, having to think long and hard to remember any of them. He had long repressed any memories of his childhood.

“I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

The queen of The Moor nodded in understanding.

“What about one of your other good memories?”

The prince of Osha thought for a moment, having difficulty remember any of them. He had long repressed any memories of his childhood.

“There was this one time when the five of us had snuck into town…”

“How old were you?” Tara questioned. 

“My sister was ten, and my brothers and I were seven.”

“You and your brothers?”

“We’re quadruplets.”

Tara’s eyebrows seemed to nearly rise off her forehead in surprise.

“Quadruplets? So you and your brothers are sets of twins.”

The prince chuckled.

“No. We’re all identical.”

Tara seemed even more surprised.

“Naturally? Or with help?”

“Naturally. Yes, I know it’s not common. Mother used to tell us that we were one in a million. I used to think that was just something mothers said, now I know she was actually telling the truth.”

“Your mother. What was she like? Or do you not want to talk about it?”

“I don’t like talking about how she died, but she was a wonderful person in life.”

“Your mother died as well?”

Ichirou sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. As he did so, he heard the Moorish woman give a small gasp and heard the thump of her chair tipping over as she leaned across the table. Grabbing his head, she tipped it down and stared intently at his head.

“You have blond hair?” she exclaimed with glee.

“Y-yeah…?” he said, his neck hurting at the awkward angle she was holding his head at.

She pushed some of his hair aside to get a better look at it.

“It’s a very nice color. I think it would look better than your red hair.”

“Thank you, Tara… Could you please let go of my head? My neck and shoulders are starting to hurt.”

“Sorry,” she said, quickly letting go of his head.

He rubbed his neck to relieve the ache.

“Do you all have blond hair?” she asked righting her chair and sitting back down.

“Yes, but we’ve all dyed our hair different colors.”

“Why?”

“It’s… a long story.”

“It seems like a lot of your life is ‘a long story.’”

Ichirou said nothing, not knowing what to say.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it. I just want to know more about you.”

Ichirou fought back the flush that threatened to bloom across his face. No one that he “helped” before had ever wanted to get to know him. To them, he was just a means to an end, not a person to get to know. It was a strange feeling.

“There’s not much to know, honestly.”

“Of course there is. You’re a person, aren’t you?”

“I just don’t know what to tell you.”

“Tell me about your mother.”

He sighed again.

“She was… a kind and very affectionate person, how and why she married our father none of us could ever figure out.”

“What was her name?”

“Mana.”

“Mana?”

“It means loving and affectionate, which fit her. She was always kind, never raised her voice to us, and never lifted a hand against us, even if we might have deserved it.”

Ichirou saw something flash in Tara’s eyes for a split second before it disappeared.

“Do you look like her?”

“No. Reiko does. My brothers and I all look like our father,” he said, which left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I’ve heard rumors about King Aiko, is he really that bad?” she asked, her brows furrowing.

No, he’s worse. He’s so much worse, Ichirou thought to himself.

“No, he’s not that bad,” he said, internally hating himself for lying.

Tara eyed him a moment, as though she did not entirely believe him, but said nothing.

“What else about your mother?”

Briefly, the image of pale feet flashed through his mind.

“I don’t really remember much about her. She died when I was only seven.”

“I see. I’m sorry about the loss of your mother and brother.”

This was all so strange. He was not used to anyone giving him sympathy. The only thing people ever seemed to care about having him fixing their problems, or wanting to pawn off their daughters on him and his brothers to try and strengthen their power in the world. Tara did not seem to care about that. She was only concerned with the safety of her own country. It was rare to find someone not concerned about improving their social status.

Just before she was about to say something else, there was a knock at the door, and Lord Bothwell walked in before he was allowed entry. Both Ichirou and Tara frowned at his sudden appearance.

“Lord Bothwell,” the queen said, visibly displeased at his lack of etiquette. “This had better be important.”


	9. Chapter 8: Waking Nightmares

Ichirou found himself standing in a pitch-black room. As he turned to try and take in his surroundings, he found that he was standing in ankle-deep water that echoed off the walls as he moved. He then found his sister Reiko standing only a few feet away.

“Reiko, wha –”

“It’s your fault, you know,” she stated, her voice echoing like the water at his feet.

Ichirou was taken aback. What was his fault? He was about to ask when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and saw Jirou and Shiro behind him, the same stone looks on their faces as Reiko.

“She’s right,” Jirou said.

“It’s all your fault he’s dead,” Shiro said.

Ichirou felt his stomach drop, and the room suddenly became very cold. Mist rose up from the water. It slipped into his lungs and froze them solid, making it difficult to breathe.

“ _No!_ It was an accident!” he tried to defend himself.

“You’re a murderer!” Reiko shouted, her voice shrill and unnatural.

“ _No! I’m not!”_ Ichirou could feel cold sweat run down the sides of his face.

“But you are!” Shiro shouted.

His siblings started to slowly encircle Ichirou, but their bodies did not move. Rather, they glided through the water effortlessly toward him.

“You’ve said it yourself many times,” Jirou said.

“It wasn’t my fault! I swear, it was an accident!”

“Are you sure about that?” asked a different, but still familiar voice.

Ichirou looked over and saw Tara, looking just as he remembered that day. She had on the plain black T-shirt that was two sizes too big for her, and her silver and black leggings, with her hair loose about her shoulders.

“Are you sure it’s not your fault?” she repeated.

“No, it’s not! I swear!” he pleaded, wanting desperately for her above anyone to believe him.

“Are you completely sure? You said it yourself. You’ve done horrible things in your life. Do you count killing your brother and mother among them?”

“But I didn’t kill them!” Ichirou cried.

“You let them die, Ichirou.”

“No!”

“Then _why_ didn’t you save them? You said that it was your job to protect them.”

“I…”

Tara glided forward through the water as his siblings had done.

“Didn’t your brother call out for you? Did you choose to ignore him? You wished for him to die, didn’t you? Because your father wanted it so.”

“No!”

“You wanted your mother dead as well. Your father had no more use for her. So you killed her.”

“I didn’t!”

Tara’s face twisted into a disgusted sneer that was unlike her normal demeanor.

“You’re just like him. You even look like him. Dying your hair doesn’t change that, Ichirou.”

Ichirou felt his whole world shatter. No. Tara couldn’t think he was this monster, even if he knew the truth. She would always tell him what a good person he was. This… this could not be real… It wasn’t real.

Ichirou covered his ears and shut his eyes as Tara and his siblings continued hurling the truth at him, even as he denied it.

“ _Murderer!”_

_“Abomination!”_

_“Killer! You’re a killer! The king’s pride and joy!”_

Ichirou crumbled to his knees, shaking as tears streamed down his face.

Go away… Just go away…

Then all grew quiet.

Ichirou opened his eyes and uncovered his ears. He looked around and found himself alone. When he turned back around, he came face-to-face with a boy with blond hair. It startled him so much that he fell back and hit the water with a splash.

This boy… No… That was not him. That was…

Ichirou felt the blood drain from his face, as his eyes widened in horror.

“Saburo.”

He looked exactly as he had that day. His blond hair nearly covered his blue eyes and he was wearing that yellow raincoat.

“Why did you leave me, Big Brother?”

Ichirou tried to speak but found he no longer had a voice.

“I tried calling out to you, Big Brother. But you didn’t hear me.” Water started to drip from Saburo’s hair. “I was so tired, Big Brother… I thought you would help me.”

Ichirou froze in place as Saburo moved slowly toward him, his skin starting to peel and decay.

“It’s so cold here, Big Brother. Why didn’t you save me? You were supposed to protect me.”

Something else touched Ichirou’s shoulder. Startled, he instinctively grabbed whatever was on his shoulder and pulled with all his strength. They gave a sharp yelp as they landed on his bed. Ichirou quickly straddled them without thinking and grabbed their throat with his hand, cutting off their air. They tried desperately to break free of his vice-like grip.

They gave a sharp yelp as they landed. He quickly grabbed them by the throat and put enough pressure to make their breathe hitch. Their hands flew to his, trying to pry them apart.

“I-Ichi… wake… u-up!”

He knew that voice!

Finally coming to his senses, he found himself looming over the queen. He quickly retreated, nearly falling off the bed in his haste.

“Whoa!” Tara exclaimed, and she grabbed his hand to keep him from falling.

Ichirou was still panting and covered in a cold sweat from his nightmare.

“What are you still doing up? What time is it?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“It’s about four in the morning, and I was finishing up paperwork.”

Ichirou did not like the idea of her staying up so late. When did he become her chaperon? Why did he care so much about her wellbeing, as though she were a child under his care?

“What are you doing in here?”

“I heard you moaning and talking in your sleep. I got worried that you might be having a nightmare, so I came to check on you. I’m sorry that I startled you.”

Ichirou was suddenly aware that he did not have a shirt on. Still, he was less keen for Tara to find out how his arm would dangle uselessly at his side when he struggled to put on a shirt.

“I… I’m fine. Thank you for checking on me.”

The prince saw the flash of hurt in her eyes, at his dismissal, making him hate the fact that he was the cause of that hurt.

“Ichi,” she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.

The Oshan prince tried desperately not to look her in the eye, remembering his nightmare, and the things that she said to him in it.

She softly tilted his head, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Ichi, are you alright?” Her eyes searched his much like when they first met.

“Of course I am,” he lied.

The queen looked unconvinced. Her accusing words in his dream echoed through his mind as he gazed at her.

“I promise, Tara, I’m fine.”

She still held the same dubious expression, but conceded to his wishes and did not push further.

“Very well,” she sighed. “Please try and get some sleep. We have a busy day ahead of us. I’ll be finalizing all the preparations for the Festival of Music.”

She started to climb off his bed before he caught her hand in his.

“Thank you for your concern. Truly. I appreciate it. There is honestly no one like you.”

She smiled and patted his hand.

“I shall see you when the Phoenix rises anew in the sky.”

Ichirou tried to give her a smile, but it failed when he thought about how he was supposed to report back to his father in the morning.

“Sleep well, my queen.”

Her smile grew.

“Sleep well, my prince.”

Ichirou rubbed his head in frustration as he listened to his father later that morning yell at him for being completely incompetent, incapable, inadequate, and whatever else he chose to call him that began with “in”.

The prince wanted to hang upon his father but knew if he did, he would simply call right back and be even more furious.

“ _I should have known better than to send someone as useless as you to The Moor!”_ his father screamed, which worsened Ichirou’s already pounding headache. “ _Shiro would have been better suited!”_

 _Like that would have worked,_ Ichirou thought. Shiro was too impulsive and brash to have made any lasting impression on Tara. With his quick temper and sharp tongue, he would not have even made it past Amir.

Ichirou took all the abuse his father threw at him, being far too used to it by now to pay it much mind. After what felt like hours, his father finally hung up and Ichirou gave a huge sigh of relief. At last, he was free from the sound of the king’s voice… at least until his next report.

He waited a few minutes before dialing a different number. As it rang, he prayed that she answered. He desperately needed to talk to her.

“Hello?”

Ichirou’s shoulders sagged in relief at the sound of Reiko’s voice.

“Rei, I need to talk to you.”


	10. Chapter 9: Festival of Music

The Festival of Music had been going full swing for most of the day now. The queen had decided to host it this year, so Ichirou had not seen her all day, and he found himself missing her. Not just her, but the sound of her voice, her scent, the calming aura she had around her. Everything.

That morning after he had finished eating, Lady Ebonee approached him and asked if he would be so kind as to accompany her to the festival, to which he agreed immediately. He had hardly seen Lady Ebonee or Prince Asher since that first night and was eager for the chance to get to know them better.

“I do hope it does not rain today,” Lady Ebonee commented, looking up at the gray sky.

“What would happen if it did?” Ichirou asked.

“Oh, the Festival would have to be canceled, and we would have to wait for the weather to clear up.”

“Has that happened often?”

“I think it has happened seven times since I moved here. The Spirits usually look kindly upon us so I have faith that they will do so again, especially since one of their own is in the festival this year.”

Ichirou was confused briefly when Lady Ebonee said “one of their own,” then he remembered that Tara was a Host to the Catalyst.

“How is your arm, Your Highness?” Lady Ebonee asked after a moment’s silence.

“Better. I’ll be glad to get this off,” he motioned to his sling.

“How much longer do you have left?”

“Two and a half more weeks, Your Grace.”

She grinned at him.

“You do not have to call me ‘Your Grace’. Ebonee will be just fine.”

They passed several small stages with people either singing or dancing to old Moorish songs.

“You and my _aibnatu_ have grown very close in the past two months,” she observed.

Ichirou felt a flush start to rise on his neck, and could not seem to fight it back. He avoided making eye contact with Tara’s mother as he said, “Nothing inappropriate has been going on, I can assure you.”

“I was not trying to imply that there was. I was simply saying that the two of you have become close. She speaks very highly of you.”

Ichirou felt shame and humiliation course through his veins at this. She did not know all the horrible things he had seen and done. How could he ever be the man Tara thinks he is? How could he ever get out from under his father’s domineering clutches?

“Ichirou?” Ebonee asked, placing a hand on his good shoulder, her face a mask of concern.

This jolted the prince from his thoughts.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Are you all right? You have gotten very pale, _eaziziun.”_

Her concern – much like Tara’s – seemed genuine, which unnerved Ichirou. He could not understand how these people, who barely knew him, could be so kind to him. In Osha, no one was ever nice to another person without a reason or something to be gained.

“Where is Tar – the queen?”

“She, along with Sloane and Orna, will be in the amphitheater in the Historic District.”

“But I thought she was hosting the festival.”

Ebonee chortled.

“She is, child. To host the Festival of Music means you are the main performer.”

“Oh.”

“Would you like to go see her show?”

Ichirou felt embarrassed to say that he did want to go see her. He did not know why, but he felt drawn to Tara. Ever since he was shot, he had felt the need to be near her. It… scared him. He did not understand what was wrong with him. He wished his mother was still alive to talk to, or maybe Reiko. He always found it easier to talk to her than his brothers.

“What is that?”

Ichirou gazed at Tara’s mother in confusion.

She pointed to his right hand.

Following her finger, he found that she was pointing to the ring on his pinkie finger. It was his mother’s wedding band. His fingers flexed as he tried to give her a better view of the ring.

“It was my mother’s wedding ring.”

“Why do you wear it? And it seems to fit you perfectly.”

“It doesn’t really. I’ve had to have it resized several times.”

“Why was she not buried with it?”

“Because in her… in her will, it said she wanted me to have it.”

“I see. I wonder why I have not noticed it before,” she said mostly to herself.

“I haven’t worn it in a while. This is the first I’ve had it on since I got here.”

“Mmm…” Ebonee said.

As they walked someone moved carelessly past Ichirou, bumping into his injured shoulder. Pain erupted from his wounded side, and the prince had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out.

“ _Hey!”_ Ebonee started shouting at the person in a heavily Moorish accent.

The man paled, quickly muttered an apology, and scurried off.

“What did you say to him?” Ichirou asked once the pain had subsided.

Ebonee smiled and said, “Oh, do not worry about it.”

Ichirou did not like the sound of that. Reiko would tell him the same thing when they were younger. Usually, it would happen after someone had bullied them and she would threaten to beat the bullies within an inch of their lives.

“Come now, it is not much farther. Though, it might take us a little longer because of all the people.”

The closer they got to the amphitheater, the denser the crowds became. However, Ichirou found it all too easy to navigate through the people because he was accompanied by Lady Ebonee, and they would swiftly move out of her way.

“You’re just in time, my lady. Her Majesty is about to go on again,” said a security guard.

Tara’s mother gave a small incline of her head before they continued on into the theatre.

“Tell me, do you have celebrations like this in your home country?”

“No, ma’am. We only celebrate going to war.”

Lady Ebonee made a face but did not say anything against his country.

As they slowly climbed the stairs, he could see Prince Asher, Amir, and Fakhir.

“Hello, my dears,” Ebonee greeted them, kissing each on the cheek.

Ichirou wondered if his mother had done something like that when she was alive.

“How has she been?” she asked as she patted the spot next to her for Ichirou sit.

Hesitantly he sat down, eyeing Tara’s father and older brother. They said nothing, but the prince eyed Ichirou with something he could not quite discern.

“She has been wonderful, my love,” Prince Asher said.

“Lovely. Where are they now?”

“Taking a short break.”

Ebonee nodded.

“Don’t worry, love, you haven’t missed them. I think it will only be five minutes until they’re back.”

“I am not worrying, Asher. Are you sure you are not?”

Prince Asher folded his arms and grunted, causing the other three to giggle.

It did, indeed, only take five minutes for the performers to come back on stage. The musicians came back first, then Orna and Sloane to loud applause. When Tara appeared, however, the theatre exploded with shouting, clapping, whistling, and cheering.

She looked so lovely, dressed in a loose cream top with a dark green leotard underneath, a see-through knee-length skirt and ballet shoes. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun, with a silver circlet resting on her forehead.

Tara extended her arms to either side of her. Orna and Sloane bowed and she bowed back to them. She then said something to the band and turned back to her fellow performers.

The music started to play.

It was incredible to watch the three of them dance. The way they gracefully leapt through the air, how they twirled, all while singing ancient Moorish folksongs. For hours they sang and danced as the citizens cheered wildly for their queen, princess, and Orna. As the sun started to dip, Tara began singing the last song of her performance, one that everyone appeared to know by heart as the second she started singing, so did everyone else in the theatre. As the song ended, everyone in the amphitheater stood and crossed their arms over their chest, the Imperial salute.

Once the queen, princess, and Orna had exited the stage, the Moorish citizens began leaving as well, most going to enjoy the rest of the festivities.

“Come now, Your Highness, we can go see my daughters and Lady Orna now that their performance is over,” said Lady Ebonee.

They waited until most of the citizens were gone before they made their way down to the base of the amphitheater. There they went into one of the many tunnels that led into the backstage area.

It was easy to spot the room that Tara was in, as it had two of her Guards standing outside the door. The Guards had their spears crossed over the door, but when they saw Tara’s family approaching, they pulled back and took one step to the side.

Ebonee knocked on the door and they waited for it to open.

Orna was the one to open the door. When she saw who it was, she dropped into a curtsy.

“Hello, Your Highnesses.”

“Good evening, Lady Orna,” Ebonee greeted, curtsying as well.

“You did wonderfully today.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“You are most welcome.”

“I suspect you’d like to see your daughters rather than stand there and speak with me,” Orna said, stepping to the side to let them past.

Ebonee instantly went to her daughters and pulled them into her arms, telling them how proud she was of them. Prince Asher did the same thing, except he also mussed up their hair, making the girls giggle. Amir grinned and patted the girls’ shoulders, telling them how he knew they could do it. And Fakhir excitedly wrapped his arms around their waists, grinning ear-to-ear.

Ichirou watched this exchange from the door, not wanting to intrude or interrupt the happy family moment. He felt envious towards them and could not remember a time when his family was like that. He had no memories of his father beaming at him, pride shining in his eyes. Ichirou’s father would always tell them how much of a failure they were, and how much they disappointed him. Ichirou also could not remember his mother hugging him, or telling him that she was proud of him, though Reiko would often remind him and his brothers that she was and always would be immensely proud of them.

Tara whispered something to her mother, who nodded and gathered up her family, leaving the room. Ichirou was confused as he now stood alone in the room with Tara. When he turned to her after glancing at the door, he found her grinning at him. She walked up and threw her arms around him. Ichirou tensed as she hugged him, not being used to physical affection. His shoulder silently screamed at the pressure from her body and he squeezed his eyes shut to help him cope with the pain. That was twice in one day that his shoulder had been hurt. Damn that sling.

“Am I hurting you?”

“A little,” he confessed.

She quickly retracted her arms from around him, making him miss her warmth, but grateful that the pressure was gone from his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Ichi. Have you been enjoying the Festival?”

“I have. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It’s been… an experience, to say the least.”

She grinned.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve been enjoying yourself.”

“Were you afraid I wouldn’t?”

“A little, yes,” she admitted.

“Well, you needn’t worry about that. Your mother ensured that I had a wonderful time.”

“Would you like to go back outside? I’ve hired some mages to do a light display once the sunsets. I figured it would be a great way to end the festival.”

“I would love to,” he said, offering Tara his free arm, which she happily looped her own in.

They made their way out of the amphitheater, with her two Guards following at a respectful distance behind them.

“So, I want to know something,” Tara said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “How much of my country and myself did you know about before you came here? And no lying. I’ll know if you are.”

Ichirou chuckled, wishing he could run his fingers through his hair, but he did not want to let go of Tara’s arm.

“Truthfully? Almost nothing. Father never told us much about the Empire. Mostly he would simply tell us never to pick a fight with you. And if we did, it would not turn out well for us.”

“We aren’t _that_ scary.”

Ichirou glanced at Tara with a raised eyebrow.

“Osha is a small country. If it weren’t for our strong military, we might not even be here.”

“I see.”

“And Osha is considered a small power when compared to the Empire.”

Tara rolled her eyes.

“I think most places would consider themselves small powers when compared to us. And, not trying to sound conceited or anything, it’s true.”

“I don’t think it’s being conceited, to tell the truth. The Empire has been the strongest nation in the world since the First Age.”

“ _And_ back then it was only three countries.”

Ichirou looked at her, confused.

“I don’t follow. I thought Eleanor the Conqueror united the four islands.”

Tara scoffed.

“Popular legend. No, she only conquered Grizwul, Surnos, and Tivea. The Moor had already been united under King Fen’Fer’ale. She also died on the way to The Moor. Her daughter, Empress Matilda decided she wanted to bury her mother first, so she changed course back to what is today Dunningham, capital of the Empire. And that was her biggest mistake.”

“What? Dying?” Ichirou asked, finding himself genuinely interested in her story.

“No,” she laughed. “Turning around. Also, when Eleanor died, they lost their greatest advantage against us.”

“Which was?”

“Eleanor’s dragons. Remember Cré? He was one of her dragons. Along with the other three, Norour, Surn, and Lar.”

“That can’t be possible. Then they’d have to be thousands of years old.”

“It is. Dragons have the longest lifespan of any living creature.”

“Why did they lose them as an advantage?”

“A dragon will only ever have one master in its life. So when Eleanor died, they no longer had their master.”

“But Matilda was Eleanor’s daughter. They shared blood.”

“It doesn’t matter. Matilda wasn’t Eleanor.”

“Then why do they guard the borders?”

“Eleanor wanted the Empire to be protected, so her last request was for her dragons to guard the borders.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ichirou could see several streams of different colored lights shoot into the sky.

“Look!” Tara said, pointing up.

They watched as the lights formed different images and words in the sky. Some even depicted historical events. After a while, Ichirou started watching Tara more than the show as she happily gazed at the lights.

He had never seen her so content.


	11. Chapter 10: Dormer

Ichirou watched from a polite distance as the queen silently kneeled in front of the altar of the Malahari, her hands over her eyes, as she prayed.

When Tara had asked that morning if he would accompany her to the temple of the Malahari, he had initially wanted to say no, having never been a very religious person. But he found himself saying yes in a heartbeat. Tara looked overjoyed when he agreed. When had he become so soft?

As he observed Tara’s praying, he flexed the fingers of his newly healed right hand, still trying to get used to having both his hands again. Tara finished praying and grabbed one of the long matches that were sitting on a tray next to her, then proceeded to light several of the candles that were at the base of the Malahari’s statue. She stood, and walked over to Ichirou, her steps echoing off the walls.

“What did you pray for?” he asked in a soft tone, not wanting to disturb the quiet of the temple.

“I’ll tell you when we get outside.”

He nodded and followed her out of the temple.

It was a bright, sunny day outside, which was a blessed relief after the week of rain they had endured.

“I was praying for the souls of my Aunt Marie and her husbands, and for the Moorish people,” she said, waving to passersby.

“I want to show you something,” she said after a while of them basking in the sunshine.

Ichirou followed her – somewhat confused, and somewhat curious – to the carriage that brought them to the temple. Tara told the driver something in Moorish, of which Ichirou only understood “aill,” meaning cliff. The driver nodded, and once they were seated, he flicked the reins and the horses set off at a brisk trot towards wherever Tara had told him.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” she sang. “It’s a surprise.”

“Does it help that I hate surprises?”

She giggled.

“No. I think you’ll like this one… At least I hope you do.”

He gave her an exasperated look.

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

She giggled again and gave him a coy smile.

“Trust me, Ichi. Have I lied to you yet?”

Of course, she hadn’t, Ichirou thought to himself, and that made him feel all the more guilty over his deception toward Tara. He did not show this outwardly, though, just as always.

“No, you haven’t. But that just means that you can start at any time. As I said, I hate surprises.”

Tara rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be a downer, Ichi. Live a little.”

“That’s a lot coming from you.”

Tara placed a hand over her heart, a look of mock hurt on her face.

“You wound me, Your Highness,” she put her other hand to her forehead. “After all my kindness, this is how you repay me? With cruel words and harsh actions. You are truly wicked.”

Ichirou doubled over with laughter at her theatrics.

Once he had calmed down and caught his breath, he found Tara smiling at him with affection in her eyes.

“What?”

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you genuinely laugh.”

Ichirou felt himself flush, now feeling embarrassed by the outburst. He ran his fingers through his hair, revealing the blond underneath in the afternoon sunlight.

“Oh, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You have a nice laugh.”

Ichirou said nothing, still feeling sheepish.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Tara,” Ichirou said, wanting to stop her from apologizing more. “It’s fine. Please don’t apologize. I’m not mad.”

“Okay. Are you sure? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Ichirou took her hand and squeezed it.

“I promise, you didn’t.”

She nodded.

“Your Majesty, we’re here,” announced the driver.

She brightened again, reminding Ichirou of her sister. Tara grabbed Ichirou’s hand and dragged him from the carriage. She pulled him along a trail that led uphill. When they came to the end of it, they stood on a cliff looking out over the ocean.

“You brought me out here to look at the ocean?”

Tara rolled her eyes.

“No. I brought you here because it’s private.”

Ichirou started to feel nervous. He did not like the sound of that. Why did they need privacy?

She shooed him away.

“I need you to stand by the trees.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

He did not feel very comfortable about this but did as she asked.

Once he was by the trees, he watched as she took off her boots and set them to the side, making him feel more nervous.

“Still not going to tell me what this is about?” he asked.

“No.”

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He watched as Tara hunched over, her arms out to her sides.

At first, he thought his eyes might have been playing tricks on him. Tara appeared to be growing. Ichirou rubbed his eyes to make absolutely sure and saw that she was indeed getting bigger and her skin was darkening. Her fingers thinned and elongated, forming a thin webbing between them and arming themselves with sharp claws. Tara’s neck stretched and her hair shrank back into her skull. Her legs thickened, her clothes tearing as she grew in size, and her toes merged together. Horns sprouted from her head, and razor-sharp teeth jutted from her mouth. Her now red-ish black skin became a thick hide with scales. Tara now had a tail that was so long it hung over the side of the cliff. Her eyes turned yellow and her pupils narrowed to slits as she looked up.

Ichirou now finally understood why she was called the Dragon Queen. He craned his neck upwards to look at Tara, who was had to be the size of a large building. Maybe even a few city blocks. She was not as big as Cré, but she did bathe the surrounding area in her shadow.

Ichirou felt himself pale.

“Well… I’ve never seen _that_ before.”

Tara shook herself out like she was trying to adjust to her new form.

“Is this why they call you the Dragon Queen?” Ichirou asked, not knowing what else to say.

Tara moved her massive head up and down as an answer.

“How long have you been able to do this?”

Tara just gazed down at him.

“Right. You probably can’t speak while you’re like this.”

Again, she nodded to answer. Then she lowered her head until it was a few feet away from Ichirou. It was easily twice as long as he was. Tara blinked, and the prince noticed how a thin film slid over her eye before her actual eyelid.

He cautiously held his hand out and approached her. When he made contact with her, she was very hot to the touch, but not hot enough to burn. Then Tara lowered her wing and waited.

“Do… do you want me to climb on your back?”

She nodded once more.

“I won’t fall off?”

Tara huffed.

Ichirou slowly and carefully climbed up on her, all the while feeling very small compared to Tara in her dragon form. All along her back were red spines and spikes. Ichirou sat near the base of her neck. The muscles in her giant body were almost constantly in motion, which felt very strange to Ichirou. He grabbed on tightly to some of her spikes as she looked back at him.

“Ready, I suppose.”

Tara raised herself up on her haunches, her wings almost touching and casting Ichirou in shadow, before launching herself into the air. Ichirou flattened himself against her, closing his eyes against the wind, which screamed in his ears.

He felt her turn, then she roared. It was so much louder than the wind and hurt Ichirou’s ears. He was suddenly very glad that he was not afraid of heights.

Ichirou did not know how long they flew, but eventually, Tara pulled her wings in and dived, leaving all of his insides in the sky. Soon, they landed with a hard _thud_ that shook the ground.

Slowly, Ichirou peeled open his eyes and sat up. They were in a clearing surrounded by forest. She lowered her wing and let Ichirou down. His legs shook as he touched down.

Tara again shook herself out and started shrinking, but she did not change back. She was now around Ichirou’s height, maintaining her dragon form.

She turned her head in a direction and gazed back at him.

“Do you want me to follow you?”

Tara nodded.

“Alright. Lead the way, then.”

They wound their way through the forest, with Tara changing direction a few times, until they came upon a cottage.

Tara motioned to the door with her head.

“You want me to open the door?”

She nodded.

“Wouldn’t it be locked?”

Tara shook her head.

Confused, Ichirou turned the handle and found that it was indeed not locked. Tara whipped into the cottage and closed the door back with her tail.

A few minutes later the door opened again, revealing a human Tara in a simple black knee-length dress.

She smiled and shut the door behind her.

“I have many questions.”

Tara laughed.

“I figured you would.”

“First, since _when_ can you turn into a damn dragon?”

“Since the Catalyst and I merged. That’s one of the abilities he has.”

“Okay. _Why_ didn’t you tell me you could turn into a dragon?”

“And give away, my secret? Perish the thought.”

“Where are we?”

“This is Dormer. Where I grew up.”

Ichirou looked around, seeing nothing but trees.

“But I heard that Dormer is a great city, not some forest.”

“Dormer is a great city, but it’s an elven city, spread amongst the woods. Dormer is the oldest settlement in The Moor.”

“I don’t understand. Why is it so spread out?”

“The Elves greatly valued nature and did not want to destroy what they loved in order to live. So they would build only a few buildings together and spread their communities across the woods. Ever since those days, the people of Dormer have followed the elves’ example. It’s not a very populace city, so its fame comes from its history.”

“Okay.”

“Come on, I want you to meet someone.”

“Don’t you need shoes?”

She looked down and shrugged.

“No, not really. I’ll be fine.”

Ichi, however, was not so sure about that.

Tara grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

She looked back at him, eyebrow raised.

“So full of questions today. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much,” she said, sarcasm dripping like honey from her voice.

“Hilarious.”

Tara laughed.

“Who am I meeting?” Ichirou asked.

“An… old friend,” there was something sad in her voice.

“Old friend?”

“You’ll see.”

After several minutes of walking through the eleven cities, they came upon a cemetery. Ichirou tensed up and stopped dead in his tracks.

Tara looked back, concerned.

“Ichi, are you alright?”

He didn’t answer.

“Ichi?”

He said nothing as sweat started to run down his neck.

Tara glanced back at the cemetery, then at him again. She used both hands to cup his face and turn him so that their eyes met.

“Ichi, are you afraid of cemeteries?”

Slowly he nodded, at large lump forming in his throat.

Tara looked greatly saddened by this.

“I see,” she said, mostly to herself. “I really wanted you to meet her.”

“Does it have to be a graveyard?” Ichi asked, his voice sounding very strained.

“Yes, I’m afraid it does.”

Ichirou felt his stomach drop. He wanted to make Tara happy and meet her friend, but the mere thought of going into that graveyard made him want to pass out, or throw up, or both. Why did it have to be a graveyard?

“Maybe some other time.”

“No,” Ichirou blurted out, instantly hating himself for it, because he did _not_ want to go into that graveyard. “I’ll be fine, so long as we don’t stay long.”

Tara looked unconvinced.

“It’s fine, really. If you’re not comfortable we can go.”

“Tara, I want to.” Another lie.

She took her hands off his face, and laced her fingers through his own clammy, shaky ones, and squeezed.

“Very well. I see I can’t convince you otherwise. We won’t be here long. And if you want to leave sooner, please let me know.”

He nodded.

As they walked through row after row of gravestones, Ichirou felt like his heart was going to explode, and he half expected his father to appear and berate him for his disgraceful behavior.

“Here she is.”

The prince looked and saw a gravestone that reads:

_Eileen Morrighan_

_9A 882 – 10A 013_

“This is my friend Eileen.”

Tara squeezed his hand.

“What… How did she die?”

“She had terminal cancer.”

Ichi nervously looked around.

“Do you want to go?” she asked, looking up at him.

“We don’t have to.”

“Let’s go. We can talk more somewhere else.”

They were silent while they walked back out of the cemetery, the entire way Ichirou was shaking like a leaf.

“There’s an old temple not far from here, do you want to go there?”

Ichi nodded.

Once they arrived, they sat under an old willow close to the entrance. Tara was still holding his hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t,” he said automatically. “I was fine.”

“Don’t lie to me. I can tell you weren’t.”

The prince could not think of anything to say.

“Why are you afraid of cemeteries?”

Ichirou wanted to shrink down to the size of a mouse. How could he explain why he was? If he did, Tara would think he was a coward and weak.

As if she could sense his growing discontent, she quickly changed the subject.

“Eileen was my best friend growing up, even though she was two years older than me. She was also friends with Sloane. The three of us used to do everything together. We were always hanging out at each other’s houses, spending the night, playing games; we were inseparable.”

“How’d she die? I mean, I know you said she had cancer but…” he trailed off, not really knowing what he was asking.

“I killed her.”

Ichirou’s head snapped in her direction so fast that his neck popped. Rubbing it, he stared at her in surprise.

“What? H-how… Why?”

She looked over at him and smiled softly.

“It’s a little more complicated, so perhaps I should elaborate. Besides the Catalyst being able to turn me into a dragon, he can… also, let me have the power to end life.”

“But I thought the Reaper was the Spirit of Death.”

“It is. But a Spirit can represent more than one thing. Catalyst can represent death as well. Death and destruction can be very similar things. In fact, many believe they are one and the same, and worship Catalyst as the Spirit of Death; more so than the Reaper, honestly.”

“Okay.”

Ichirou did not want to rush Tara’s explanation, but he really wanted to know why she claimed to have killed her friend.

“I killed Eileen as an act of mercy. She was dying and in pain. She had been begging me for weeks,” Tara’s voice broke and a single tear ran down her cheek which she quickly wiped away. Even now, she hated showing vulnerability.

Some unknown emotions arose in Ichirou, he wanted to hold her, comfort her but did not know how, so he squeezed her hand instead.

“For years I carried this guilt in me. I always thought that… maybe there was something – anything – the doctors could have done to save her… Come to find out, years later, that the cancer had spread throughout her body, so all anyone could do was help ease her suffering. Eileen told me how she wished she didn’t have to ask me for this favor. But I was the only one who could help her. So, I ended her pain and suffering, even though I partly hated myself for doing so. I made sure Eileen felt no pain and that she would simply drift off to sleep.”

Tara was silent for a long time, her eyes misty.

“Not many people know about this.”

Ichirou wanted to tell her about his mother and Saburo, but felt if he did, she would hate him. He did not help someone end their pain and suffering. All he did was cause more. Their deaths had been all his fault, and he had no one to blame but himself.

“Are you ready to go home?” Tara asked after they had been sitting in silence for a while.

Home… Yes, this place was starting to feel more and more like home, Ichirou silently thought.

He merely nodded to her, and they left for Kingsburgh.


End file.
